Miracle Woman Read Online Free PDF

think that she might be able to heal their child? The mother must be unbalanced to believe such a rumour – or plain desperate! The small boy in the buggy looked up at her. His face was pale, with a sheen of grey blue under his eyes. He should have been running aroundroughhousing at home instead of sitting there, looking tired and resigned.
    â€˜Honest, you should bring him to a clinic or the hospital, Mrs Glass.’
    â€˜What harm will it do? Please, just touch him.’
    Martha could see the anxiety in the other woman’s face, and the small boy looking up at her, worried.
    She bend down towards him; his eyes were clinging to hers, watching her. He had a Disney T-shirt on and a pair of elastic-waisted denim shorts. Martha touched him without thinking, stroking his cheek with the side of her finger and cupping his face. ‘You are such a cute boy, Mark. Such a good boy,’ she said.
    His brother Karl and Alice watched as the child listened to her.
    Even now she could feel it, the sense of fear, of worry, far too much for a small boy. Running her hands along the base of his neck and across his chest-bone she felt it: the slightness of breath, the irritation of his lungs that made him cough and wake and wheeze. The palms of her hands and fingertips were warm already as she spread them against his skin, conscious of the heat that seemed to be flushing through her own flesh and bones. What was happening? Perhaps it was some weird kinetic connection. Was it the same as the last time? She wasn’t sure. The mother was watching her, her face filled with hope.
    Martha was touching Mark, feeling his everybreath, but it didn’t seem to be working. His perplexed child’s eyes stared up at her. Martha was unsure what to do next. The children, curious as to what was meant to be going on, stood transfixed beside them. Martha was about to give up. She felt like some kind of sideshow fraud pretending to do something she couldn’t.
    â€˜Please! He’s been so sick for so long.’
    Martha studied him. No little boy deserved to have such poor health, not to be able to run about and take a proper breath of good air. Silently she prayed to that greater power, to God above, to help this child and make him stronger. She felt the heat travel through her and move inside him to soothe and coat and protect those raspy lungs from infection, and irritation and allergy. She knew that Mark could sense it too. A few minutes later she stopped.
    â€˜Is that it?’ demanded his mother.
    â€˜I guess so.’ Martha shrugged; this hadn’t been her idea, for sure. ‘I touched him like you asked, Mrs Glass, but I don’t expect it will make any difference to Mark and what’s wrong with him. What he needs is the care of a good paediatrician or allergy specialist – not someone like me.’
    She could see the other woman’s disappointment and managed to detach herself and Alice from her, with the excuse that she was already running late and had to collect her other children from school.
    That night, curled up in bed against Mike’s back, a position she much enjoyed, Martha ran her hands along the familiar map of her husband’s ribcage and stomach.
    â€˜Mmmm,’ he sighed.
    â€˜Mike – listen, how do my hands feel?’
    â€˜They feel good . . . real good.’
    â€˜No, Mike, honest, tell me, do they feel different?’
    â€˜Is this some kind of a trick question, Martha?’
    â€˜Do they feel warm, I mean hot when I touch you?’
    Mike McGill laughed aloud.
    â€˜Of course you’re warm, you’ve been snuggling up to me for the last quarter-hour.’
    â€˜Mike, be serious! I was just wondering if there
is
anything different . . . different about me?’
    Mike rolled around to face her, his arm pulling her closer; and he reassured her that despite sixteen years of marriage little had changed and she was still the woman he wanted. Trying to push